


Crushed Velvet

by supersinger472



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Blue Hawke, Custom Male Hawke, Fluff, M/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 00:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15012551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersinger472/pseuds/supersinger472
Summary: Written for handers-time's reverse bang. A simple cozy scene between Hawke and Anders sometime between Act 2 and 3.





	Crushed Velvet

A quiet knock comes from the door and Hawke pokes his head inside, without waiting for a response. Sitting in the center of the enormous bed they share is Anders, brow furrowed in concentration as he pours over parchments scattered across the blankets. He’s dressed in soft, comfortable clothing, with a shawl wrapped around his shoulders to fight off the chill that sinks into the room without the fire. His hair is down, and he keeps having to tuck it back behind his ears, which only seems to irritate him more each time he has to do it. 

“There you are,” Hawke says in a quiet voice, closing the door behind him. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“You found me, congratulations.” Anders’ words are tight and clipped and he doesn’t look up from the papers.

There’s a rustling of paper and the bed sinks as Hawke moves some of Anders’ work, careful not to wrinkle anything, and sits down in the center of the bed, facing Anders. “What is all this? Editing your manifesto again?” He doesn’t say it dismissively, Hawke knows how important it is that every word of the thin book be perfect. It’s a weapon in the war against mage oppression, and a single flaw will cause it to shatter under the weight of the chantry and public opinion. If the words are elegant yet clear enough the manifesto can change the hearts and minds of the people in Kirkwall, and convince the mages in the circles that a cage, even one you’ve lived your whole life in, is still a cage.

“Actually no. Not right now. I’m writing letters to the nobility asking for help with the clinic.”

“On my good stationary?”

Anders laughs softly and nods, “yes I am, is there a problem with that?” He leans towards Hawke and gives him a smug smile, the corner of his mouth lifting up.

“Not at all, it was a gift from Varric, so I’m sure he’s just happy someone is using it.”

Anders settles back against the pillows and picks up another sheet of paper, but before he can start writing again Hawke interrupts him.

“You never told me why you were in here and not in the office. It’s much better for this sort of thing.”

Anders gives him a long look, debating whether he should tell Hawke the truth or not.

Hawke just waits the silence out, taking Anders’ free hand that isn’t holding the paper and turning it over, gently massaging his bony hand with his thumbs. He doesn’t look him in the eye, not wanting to pressure Anders for an answer, so he just focuses on taking care of his wrists, knowing how they tend to ache after long days of working.

“I was lonely. It’s so quiet in that office, after a while it feels like the walls are pressing in around me and starting to crush me.”  
“Then you should have gone to find me, so I could keep you company.”

“I didn’t want to be a bother to you.”

“Anders,” Hawke releases his hand and looks into his eyes. “You’re not a burden on me. I like it when you ask for my help.” He leans forward, it’s a little difficult with both of their legs in the way, and cups Ander’s face, feeling the scrape of stubble against his palms. This close, the lines of his face and the tired, washed out pallor of his skin is obvious. A sign of too many long, exhausting nights over the years. “We’re a team, ever since we met we’ve been a team. We always will be.”

Anders sighs and closes his eyes; Hawke’s hands radiate a soothing warmth. “I know. I know.” He wraps his fingers around Hawke’s wrists and kiss his palm before slowly pulling away. He sits up and manages a weak smile, “you’re always right, it’s a very annoying habit of yours.”

“I’m just looking out for you.” He says with a smile. Hawke’s eyes drop down to the bandage wrapped around Anders bicep, it’s tight and clean, the product of Aveline’s quick work out in the field when a rogue templar got past their front line.

_They’d slipped a letter to Anders in the middle of the night, a few lines in shaky writing from some mages who’d escaped the Gallows and were hiding down at the docks, waiting for a ship out of Kirkwall to the rest of the Free Marches. Begging for help, for protection, from the man who’d written the manifesto that’d given them the courage to escape._

_Anders promised he’d protect them for the night, from the templars trying to drag them back and make them tranquil or worse, and Hawke and his friends had promised as well._

_When the templars burst into the warehouse they’d been waiting in, Aveline placed herself as a bulwark between them and the mages, fighting to defend the young mages, and her friends. Hawke stood just behind her, slinging spells while Anders kept them all safe with healing spells._

_Anders yelled out in pain and Hawke turned, all he saw was a rip in Anders’ coat and blood on the templar’s blade and he went mad, stabbing the templar through the back with the blade on his staff and freezing him from the inside out._

_Aveline bandaged Anders’ arm, since he couldn’t move it well enough to heal it himself, and just before dawn they saw mages off in the hold of a trading ship, each one with a feather in their hair or hidden in their coat._

“How’s the arm?” Hawke asks, feeling guilty that he let Anders get hurt at all.  
Anders rubs the bandage gently and gives Hawke a reassuring smile, “it’s fine, it doesn’t hurt at all. Aveline did a good job.”

“Better than I would have.”

“You have other skills,” Anders lets out a soft laugh and takes Hawke’s hand, squeezing gently before just holding it, looking into his eyes. “Now let me get some work done.” He picks up one of the sheets of paper and tries to focus.

“Why? Am I being a distraction?” Hawke smiles and scoots closer, lifting one of Anders legs and hooking it over his shoulder.

“Yes, yes you are.” Anders says, but it’s obvious he’s trying to fight down a grin by the way the corners of his mouth keep twitching.

Hawke sees him tuck his hair behind his ears again and says, “here, let me help.” He pulls the tie out of his own hair and gathers up Anders’ hair in a loose ponytail at the back of his neck, taking a few moments more to comb his fingers through his hair and feel the silky thin strands between his fingers that are rough from gripping a heavy staff day in and day out. “There, now you’re ready to beg for money.”

There’s a beat of silence before Anders lets out a quiet laugh, a laugh that’s slightly surprised and mostly just relieved to have something to laugh about. “I don’t know why I don’t just cut it all off already and have done with it. It’s caused me nothing but trouble, especially keeping it clean.”

“I don’t know about that, long hair isn’t so bad.” Free from its tie, Hawke’s hair hangs loose around his face, getting in his eyes.

“Now you’re really making it hard to focus.” Anders smiles and gives up on the papers, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Hawke’s.

“Maybe that’s the idea, maybe I want you to pay attention to me.” Hawke teases and kisses him again, rubbing his hand over Anders’ leg. He reaches out and tugs at Anders’ shawl, pulling it off over his head and tossing it aside. With a heavy sigh he smiles and pins Anders down into the pillows, leaning down to gently nuzzle their noses together, his hair hanging around his face like a curtain. “Do I have your attention now?”

Anders stares up at him and reaches up to cup his cheek, smiling as he stares into his eyes. “You’ve always had my attention, just by your very presence.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Good. Only ever a good thing.” He wraps his arms around Hawke’s neck, tangling his hands in his hair, entwining the two of them together, inseparable, Hawke and Anders, a team.

“I was hoping that’s what you’d say.” Hawke closes the gap between them again, pressing their mouths together with gentle tenderness that burns through them both, warming them from within.

\--- 

When they’re finished the two of them lie in bed, entangled in the sheets, their clothes and papers strewn across the floor. Anders dozes lightly, resting his head on Hawke’s chest, while Hawke lies awake, staring at the curtain around the bed. He looks down at Anders’ peaceful sleeping face and smiles, glad to see him resting for the first time in a long while. With a gentle touch he removes the tie from Anders hair and strokes it back from his forehead. Anders stirs and opens his eyes at that, giving him a tired smile.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, and his words are heavy with the weight of everything Hawke has done for him, big and small, and a love so huge it fills his chest with every breath and is in danger of crushing him beneath the weight of everything he feels. Because Anders doesn’t know how to love small, and quiet, and gentle. It’s a roaring flame and a crashing wave that’s in danger of sweeping away those who are unprepared for it.

But Hawke meets that love with open arms and returns it just as fiercely. But now is not the time to say any of those things, for speaking them will only make them seem like too often recited poetry. So Hawke presses a kiss to his forehead and smiles.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me at mpregnateyourocs.tumblr.com  
> Follow moutchi, the person who did the lovely art at captainmoutchi.tumblr.com


End file.
